


and the bombs are falling in the streets

by horrorterroronesie



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Abuse, Canon Compliant, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, for rvb not for bmc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorterroronesie/pseuds/horrorterroronesie
Summary: Agent Vermont of Project Freelancer, or Jeremy Heere of nowhere in particular, knows that he isn't the most competent. This is why, when faced with a chance to do better- to actually make a difference instead of floundering at the bottom of the leaderboard like the triplets- he takes it. Consequences be damned.*Hello, Agent Vermont, and welcome to your assigned Artificial Intelligence Program. My name is Zeta.*





	1. 1. in which we meet our intrepid heroes.

“C-come on! Come on! Go! Go!” Jeremy motions frantically, waving his partner over. Bullets spatter the ground on either side of their admittedly meager cover. He rises up slightly to give him some cover fire, and ducks back down. Michael frantically sprints through the uncovered area, sliding down to kneel beside him.

 

“Yeah! Okay, okay, we practiced this, right? We know how to do this!” They nod at each other, resolve strengthened. Michael unclips a grenade from his belt- the last one they have between them. He puts his fist out, and Jeremy bumps it. Moving in sync, Michael lobs the grenade over the wall as his partner unloads his shotgun at-

There’s nobody there.

 

“Fuck! They moved! Dude, we need to-”

_Ping._ A single bullet bounces against his backplate.

“Ow! The back of my chest!”

_“Agent Colorado has been tagged. Team 1 wins.”_ FILSS, the AI overseeing their match, announces. The lights in the training room, formerly dimmed for a unique scenario,  brighten considerably. They have to squint against the sudden glare as their helmets adjust.

 

“You’re dead, loser!” They both look to the source of the classic high-school bully jeer.

“Hiii, Oregon. Arizona.” Michael grimaces., absently rubbing at the place the bullet hit him. The shorter agent swaggers up to them, his friend staying back.

“If this was a real mission? Like the ones you never go on? Your innards’d be splattered over the whoooole room!” He lisps a little on the ‘splattered’, but neither of them are in a position or mood to point it out.

 

They both know they suck at basically everything. The only thing keeping them from officially being at the bottom of the leaderboard is the fact rankings are only shown for the top 10. But still, this is less than ideal.

 

They proceed to the changing rooms, stripping their armour and going into the showers. Oregon is already done when Jeremy exits, straightening from where he was bending down in front of Michael’s chestpiece.  
“Uh…” Jeremy squeaks. Oregon turns to him. He pulls out a sharpie from somewhere, grabbing onto Jeremy’s shoulder as he tries to pull away.

“Try to rub this off and you’re dead,” He adds, scribbling something on his back.

“Uh! Okay! Yep!” Jeremy’s voice breaks. Oregon jostles him again, pushing away and leaving the changing room with a laugh. Unnerving, he thinks. Shouldn’t there be some sort of therapy program for people who continued acting like high school bullies well into adulthood? He decides to skedaddle first, ask questions later. Maybe find somewhere secluded to see what’s written on his armor, wash it off, and lay low until Oregon, and Arizona by extension, forget about the whole debacle. 


	2. 2. in which a proposition is made, and agendas are pushed.

_ “Agent Vermont to the Counsellor’s office immediately.”  _ FILSS calls out, computer-generated voice reverberating through the corridors. Jeremy twitches, surprised. Did he do something? What kind of thing would require a visit to the Counsellor instead of the Director? Did _ Michael _ do something?

He stumbles over his own feet in his haste to open the door.

 

“Ah, Vermont. I’m glad to see you could come.”

He feels the Counsellor’s gaze boring into his brain. His face is eerily calm as always, the unsettling focus and soft voice spreading unease like a blanket over the room. 

“I- uh- Is something wrong?” He stutters out. The Counsellor only tilts his head.

“Do you have reason to believe something might be wrong, Jeremy?”

“Uh! No?” God, this is awkward.

“But to answer your question, I brought you here to make a proposition. Now, you are familiar with the AI our program has recently began to use?” He nods. Rumours move quickly through the ship. He’d heard countless stories of the top ten’s AIs, of their supercharged armour enhancements and superhuman abilities. And Agent Carolina, who was a legend in her own right.  With or without an AI.

“Of course. Jeremy, I brought you here to offer you an AI.”

…

… What?

…  _ What? _

This is not how he expected this meeting to go.

“I- Wh- Are you sure?” The words escape his lips before he has a chance to think twice. “Sir.” He tacks on belatedly. The Counsellor only looks bemused.

“We have evaluated the capabilities of all active personnel. Currently, you are the person that will benefit most from having an AI installed. It will communicate with you directly, and help immensely in battle situations.” He says. But he isn’t really ‘active personnel’, is he, Jeremy thinks first. Second is,

“Will Colorado get an AI too?” 

He might be imagining it, but the Counsellor’s smile seems to become a tiny bit more forced.

“...No. Will that be a problem, Jeremy?” 

He quickly shakes his head. No use pushing it.

“Good. Your implantation is scheduled in three days’ time, medical bay 3-5 at 0800.”

Jeremy nods, then leaves the room.


	3. 3.  in which Jeremy mulls over the offer, and both reassurance and space weed are given freely.

 

“Ugh.” Jeremy says, shouldering open the door to his and Michael’s shared room.

“Ugh!” Michael enthusiastically agrees, lying down on the giant beanbags on the floor.

 

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!” Jeremy almost yodels, keeping back a laugh. Michael pushes a video game box at him.

 

“Apocalypse of the Damned?”

“Classic! Put it in.” He leans forward to slot the cartridge into a complicated series of ports allowing the ancient game to be played on their dorm’s computer system. The game boots up, and they spend the next few minutes in amicable silence, wordlessly falling into a rhythm they had practiced to perfection. Jeremy is the one to speak up first.

 

“Hey, so, you know about the AIs all the leaderboarders’re getting?” Michael throws a curious look his way, but doesn’t pause the game. He nods. “Because they’re saying it… reads your thoughts, makes you a better soldier, and…” Michael was listening intently, interest piqued.

 

“Wait just a sec, Jerm. Buddy. Bro. What brought this on?” He asks quietly.

“Just… just something the Counsellor said when I came to see him. I dunno.” Jeremy sighs. He went to the Counsellor? Worry niggles at the edge of Michael’s consciousness.

“Well, d’you think if you get one, you’ll be too  _ goooood a soldier,”  _ He croons, “for video games?” He smiles impishly, trying to cheer his best friend up. 

 

“Hah, you wish! I’ll use my newfound powers to destroy you at Smash,” He retorts. 

“See, that’s what scifi authors are talking about when they say computers are gonna control us all. Total ownage.  _ We are all noobs beneath our robot overlords, _ ” He moves his arms around in a robotic manner. Jeremy softly chuckles, and then both of them are laughing. Mission Cheer Up Jeremy accomplished. At least one mission he hasn’t failed yet.

 

“You know… even if you get an AI, even if you’re too cool for me, I’ll still be your friend.”

“...Yeah.”


	4. 4. in which Jeremy experiences inordinate amounts of pain, and both the Director and Zeta make an appearance.

 

“AI insertion in three.” The stern-looking doctor to his left says.

“Two.” He’s woozy from the anaesthetic, but a shard of apprehension still slices through him.

“One.”

 

He tumbles out of the hospital bed and his head is BURSTING-

The back of his head feels like it's burning, the implantation site searing a hole through his neck. Someone screams. It might be him. Blurrily, he sees the surgeons inch closer. The guard at the door reaches up to his helmet, mumbling something, but Jeremy's head is being split WIDE OPEN and suddenly he's numb, and it doesn't hurt anymore, and he staggers to his feet.

 

"H-hey, it's fine, I'm-" A voice resonates inside his brain, and now everything else he's heard feels like a horribly compressed audio file, because this voice is bypassing his ears, nestled within his skull. 

_ *Calibration complete. Access procedure initiated.* _

"Wait, wait, waitwaitwaitwait-" He clutches at his head. 

_ *Discomfort level may increase.* _

 

Static tears through his thoughts. The surgeons watching are more frantic in their movements now, arguing about something he can't quite make out-

_ *Accessing neural memory. Accessing muscle memory. Access procedure complete.*  _

 

_ *Hello, Agent Vermont. I am your assigned Artificial Intelligence Program. My name is Zeta.* _

 

And the pain stops.

 

He slowly stands up, giving a sheepish smile to the surgeons and nurses. One immediately rushes towards him, and Jeremy realizes he must have torn out an IV drip. A trail of blood is running down his wrist, and the doctor shepherds him back onto the bed.

 

"Now, what the- what was that about, agent?" The doctor says once Jeremy is situated back on the bed. He shines a light into his eyes, moving it back and forth. "Focus on the light." He efficiently checks him for any signs of brain damage, and cleans up the wound left by his drip. 

 

“Sorry- I just got a… migraine, I guess? I think I heard my AI, as well, but... ” The doctor fixes him with an unimpressed look. Luckily, he’s saved- for a certain value of saved- by the door opening. A gaunt dark-haired man(- the Director! Jeremy thinks, astonished) strides in. He attempts a salute- wait, no, he doesn’t. The doctor is still holding on to his arm, so he settles for lamely gesturing with his other hand.

 

“At ease, agent. What happened?” Man, people seem to love asking him that question all of a sudden.  

“It felt like a migraine, yeah. But kinda localised to my implant? And then I heard a voice, and it called itself Zeta. And then it hurt a lot more and then it stopped.” He takes a breath.

 

The Director looks thoughtful.

“Up, up, down, down, left, right, A.” He chants out suddenly, and the pain returns. Jeremy seizes up, then drifts into nothingness.

 

His body stretches, a languid and completely unsettling smirk coming to its face.

_ “Hello, Director. Confirming installation.” _

“Zeta. Confirm aim and protoc-” He cuts himself off, glancing at the medical staff. “Hold off on that. Y’all are dismissed. The nurses may return once I finish with the patient. Am I clear?” Everyone nods, filing out of the room.

 

“Now. Confirm aim and protocol.”

_ “Bring Jeremy Heere, codenamed Agent Vermont, up to and ahead of the standards expected of Project Freelancer military personnel by any means necessary. Am I missing anything, Director?”  _ The body of of the aforementioned Jeremy Heere quirks an eyebrow in feigned interest, an action that looks absolutely foreign on the young man’s awkward facial structure.

“Perhaps a change in attitude.” The Director tersely retorts.

_ “I’m behaving better than some of your... favoured personnel. I really don’t think there’s a problem.” _

He scowls.

“Estabilish a link to FILLS as soon as Vermont returns to consciousness.”

The AI sobers, nodding.

_ “Certainly.” _


	5. 5. in which Zeta makes an appearance, and Jeremy feels a little out of his depth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh im sorry i took so long!!!

Jeremy wakes up yet again to an empty room. He groans, arching his back against the thin hospital mattress. 

_ *Glad to see you feeling better, Agent Vermont.* _

“Augh!” He bolts up straight.

_ *Come on, we were introduced yesterday. No need for all that.* _

“You’re… my AI?” He turns around, scanning the room like he expects a hologram projection.

_ *We established that as well. Do I need to say everything twice? And I don’t project myself like the AI you might be used to- the ones in the top freelancers.* _ Jeremy sags.

 

“So you’re a weaker AI? Since I’m not on the leaderboard or anything.”

If disembodied voices could give unimpressed to downright scathing looks, Jeremy would be withering under one.

_ *I have just as much processing power, if not more, than those idiots. Gamma notwithstanding… Not that I’m allowed to interact with any of them. You see, Vermont, my objective is to help you and you alone.* _

 

“Aren’t all AIs like that? I mean, Mi- Colorado told me that he heard Agent Carolina mention that-”

_ *Ugh. Spare me the details.  You’re LITERALLY at the bottom of the leaderboard. The very worst. How you didn’t end up a Simulation Trooper is beyond even me. But that’s where I come in.*  _ Jeremy listens intently, even as the AI continues to insult him.  _ *My job is to make you the perfect soldier. The best Freelancer. Of course, we have a long- and I do mean long- way to go.*  _ At those words, a snappily-dressed man appears, leaning nonchalantly against the bleached hospital wall. There wasn’t any sound or motion, it was like he had always been there and Jeremy had just noticed him.

 

“What! What the fuck, you just said you couldn’t project yourself!” He half-yells, hoping this was the projection of Zeta and not some random person that just somehow teleported there.

_ *I never said that. Anyway, I’m not even doing that-*  _ The AI’s voice continues to sound through his head instead of outside it. Jeremy feels another headache coming on

“And why do you look like Keanu Reeves?” He interrupts despite himself. The projection’s eye twitches, television static replacing its pupil for a moment.

 

_ *Firstly, if you interrupt me again I’ll shock you. Secondly, I’ve calculated this form would make you most likely to trust me. Thirdly, as I was SAYING, I’m controlling your optic nerves to make you see me. Nobody else can see or hear me unless I take control of your vocal chords and mouth- oh, don’t shudder like that.*  _ Jeremy straightens guiltily. It was involuntary- it just sounded like a breach of personal autonomy he wasn’t expecting when he signed up for this.

_ *Now. Let’s see…* _


End file.
